The Summer That Built Me

He did not even give me an option. I WAS applying for camp. "No," was not even allowed when we talked about camp. I applied. He walked me through the interview process, "Now remember, you are interviewing with camp royalty. Ms. Newman IS CAMP. She bleeds camp, she wrote the rule book, the manual, the very application you spent endless hours filling out. I'm pretty sure she built all of CRS with her own sweat and blood. No pressure or anything, but if you mess this up you are a total loser." (I'm not sure he said all those things word for word, but that's what I walked away with). " Oh! And Sara, in the south, they say 'yes, ma'am, no ma'am' and 'yes, sir, no sir' so when you answer a question make sure you do it correctly. They take it VERY seriously!" Me in my head, "THEY DO WHAT?!!!!"

He made me do mock interviews. We had photocopied my application so my answers would be consistent across the board. He would stop me and make me reword things so I didn't sound so Sunday School like. I still sounded so Sunday School like. In our final interview prep he says to me, "Whatever you do, do not under any circumstance tell them you believe in speaking in tongues, they don't go for stuff like that in the south!"

Mental note made.
No speaking in tongues.
*clause* I have never spoken in tongues and did grow up in a congregation that spoke in tongues. Why Zach thought this was SO important still puzzles me. *end of clause*

I had to hide on the back porch when I had my phone interview. That was the only relatively quiet place in a house of seven people. I announced to my family before answering, "I'm not clicking over for call waiting so don't even bother asking if anyone called for you! I have an interview!!!!"

Oh if we only had a recording of that interview. Every awkward pause on my part was filled with "yes, ma'ams" even when they didn't apply.

Chief Margie: Good evening, Sara.
Sara: Yes, ma'am, I'm Sara.
Chief: How are you?
Sara: Yes ma'am.
Chief: No, really how are you?
Sara: Yes ma'am.

In my head, "Say yes ma'am, say no ma'am. You don't speak in tongues. You don't speak in tongues. You don't speak in tongues. You don't drink, you don't chew, and you don't go with boys that do!
YES MA'AM!!

Some how, probably because of the endless interview prep and the kindness of Chief Margie, I secured a job as an assistant counselor at Camp of the Rising Son, circa: 1998.

He helped me pack and took me on my first "WALMART TRIP!" Oh, I had been to Walmart before, but not in preparation of camp. It was THE Walmart Trip. He threw stuff in the cart that was not on my official "WHAT TO BRING TO CAMP" list.

ME: "Wait, wait, wait, why so much shaving cream? Just one can will get me through the summer!"
HE: "Just wait" he would say.
ME: "Whoa, why are you buying me a huge, pimped out, box fan? Don't they have fans in the cabin?"
HE: "Just wait" he would say.
ME:"Why are we buying a million tank-tops, I have plenty of tshirts I can bring."
HE: "Just wait!"
ME: "Gold Bond?! That's not on my list!"
HE: "Just wait" he grinned!
ME: "Dales Seasoning?! I have to do my own cooking?!
HE: "Just wait"......

I slept the entire trip to Mississippi. I could tell he was mad. He wanted to show me every land mark between Kansas City and French Camp and the history behind each pit stop. He and Liz were like giddy children passing down a heritage I knew nothing of. I couldn't stop sleeping.

I'll never forget the first time we pulled into French Camp. I'll never forget the way I felt. I had been transported no doubt, to the middle of Mayberry. I'm pretty sure they intentionally decided to take me to one of the most honky tonk events they could muster up to initiate me into southern life; dirt track racing. It was so loud, hot, and well.....dirty. People would try and speak to me and between the noise and the southern drawl I felt like I was in a foreign country. The language was weird, the food was very foreign, and I just couldn't get over how hot I was.... ALL.THE.TIME!

Training Week about did me in. Every second of every day there was a scheduled event; games, activity prep, conferences, manual reading, Babe training, waiter call, TAWG TIME, THE TALK, fire making, cabin cleaning, and more manual reading.

I clung to him because he was the only thing familiar. I made him sit by me during EVERY meeting and EVERY meal. Poor guy thought I would blossom; I clung. He ever so gently kept nudging me towards life. He would hug me, affirm me, and then with the most love he could muster up he gave me a quick kick in the butt and pushed me out of his nest (or personal space bubble, however you may see it!) And in a few days time, that part of me that clung to him began to blossom and he beamed with pride. And then before I knew it, he had performed a blood transfusion on me and camp began to run through my veins.

Today, Camp of the Rising Son staff arrived for training. Circa: 2014. I found a reason to ride up to camp. Maybe I would get a quick glance of him in action. Maybe I would see him welcome another unstable, new staff member and prep them to fly. We crested the hill and there he stood, camp royalty at its finest! All decked out in his new shorts and leadership shirt. It kind of took my breath away. Without missing a beat my heart knew it; Zach Hall IS CAMP. He bleeds camp, he has tweaked the rule book, (and broken some rules) he has rewritten parts of the manual, he has added questions to the very application Chiefs spend endless hours filling out. And without a doubt he HAS built some of CRS with his own sweat, blood, and tears, because he built me sixteen years ago this summer. And when I think of him and the blood transfusion that took place between our hearts, I cannot help but beam with pride...

Thanks Chief, for helping me blossom in more ways than you'll ever know!
I love you so big!
~Chief